


I know it seems like an age but one day this will be over

by simply_kelp



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Halls of Mandos, Losgar, everyone is dead but that shouldn't come as a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_kelp/pseuds/simply_kelp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It used to haunt him more, his death. Back when the Halls were filled mostly with Teleri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know it seems like an age but one day this will be over

Ambarussa can only just remember the smell of burning flesh. It is hazy, though. Like a far off dream. Sometimes he can still feel his skin melting, see leaping, orange flames engulf white wood. It used to haunt him more, his death. Back when the Halls were filled mostly with Teleri.

The walls are covered with woven tapestries. There is one that shows Grandfather’s murder, many that show the kinslaying at Alqualondë. A strange thing about the Halls: they seem always to be growing. They were filled the day he came and though the number of dead has only increased they have never become overcrowded.

Grandfather is Ambarussa’s only companion here at first. The other elves pretend not to see him. He does not blame them. His family has caused them so much pain. There are a few that he recognizes as elves he’d slain at Alqualondë.

Ada is the first to come. He wraps his arms tightly around Ambarussa, buries his face in red hair. “Forgive me,” ada says. The shoulder of Ambarussa’s tunic is damp and when ada finally lets go, his eyes are red-rimmed. Ambarussa cannot speak but he nods.

Vaire’s weavings increase. Each tapestry depicts some new horror. Of war, of slaughter. Mandos offers him a chance to return to Valinor. “No,” he says. “I will wait for my brother.” Ada rests a hand on Ambarussa’s shoulder. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

They spend their days looking over the tapestries. Ada’s eyes are dull. He whispers things that Ambarussa only half-understands. Apologies to his still-living sons. The Oath winds around Ambarussa’s brothers in silver thread. His woven twin stares back at him.

Centuries pass before Ambarussa recognizes a dark figure. “Good old Moryo,” he whispers. He clutches Moryo to him. The fabric of Moryo’s robe scratches his cheek. He remembers when he used to follow after Moryo, back when he was whole. Ada and Grandfather embrace Curvo and Tyelko. Ambarussa looks behind them. “Is…?” he doesn’t dare ask.

“He’s with Kano and Nelyo, they will look after him,” says Curvo with surprising gentleness.

He knows he should not want to see his twin. That seeing him will mean death. Yet he also knows that it is only a matter of time. So he looks to the day he will see his brother again with longing and dread.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Various Storms & Saints by Florence + the Machine.


End file.
